Gifts, Greed and Glory
by OpheliaKitt
Summary: A Musketeers tale in rhyming couplets. An entry into the Fete des Mousquetaires, randomly told through rhyme...Happy New Year!


Gifts, Greed and Glory

– A Musketeers' tale in rhyming couplets.

It was the end of December and the weather was cold.

In came a straggler, weary and old.

He stopped for a moment outside the gate –

He had come a long distance, the hour was late.

"Can we help you monsieur?" came a voice from behind,

The man's eyes were dark, he looked handsome and kind.

Three others stood with him, returning from duty,

A tall one, a young one and one who seemed snooty.

They waited for him as he gathered his wits,

When suddenly it seemed that his knees called it quits.

He crumpled before them with a low keening groan,

"Treville…" the man murmured in a weak and hoarse tone.

The men dropped to their knees to see what was the matter.

"He's practically frozen! Hear how his teeth chatter!

Porthos!" one said to the largest of the men,

"Let's get him inside, and decide what to do then!"

They rushed with the beggar and got him in bed –

The fire made hot and a warm cloth on his head.

"What's this?" said the proud one, his blue eyes blazing.

In his hand was a letter at which his brothers stood gazing.

"It says for the Captain," Athos said to the room,

"D'Artagnan, go fetch him before this man meets his doom."

Aramis checked the beggar; his face set and grim.

"I'm not sure how much we will get out of him.

His fever is high, his body is weak.

I doubt very much we will hear the man speak.

Long has he suffered and at an age such as his?

It's in God's hands now if he dies or he lives…"

Porthos grew sombre and Athos, he nodded,

As Aramis' care on his patient he lauded.

The sound of boot steps on stairs could be heard.

Treville came in asking, "What is the word?"

"This man we found standing by the garrison's gate;

He asked for your help to determine his fate.

He is older and ill and his time, it draws close.

He carried this letter," reported Athos.

Treville took the letter, his face drawn and grim,

And read quickly the message that was addressed to him.

"This man had a message – his town is in need.

The people are suffering from a villain's greed.

His master was murdered by a treacherous son.

He came here to see if something could be done."

"Treville," whispered the old man, his lips barely parting.

The musketeers drew nearer to hear the words imparting.

"My master he knew you – Maurice du Moulade –

He said that we could rely on your aid.

He was killed by his son, for money and power.

He is working with Spain at this deadly hour.

He has plans to bring spies here to target the crown

And these men, they are evil – they're killing the town.

My time now is short, we waited too long,

But I've come now to beg that you help right this wrong.

I fear for the brother, his life is in danger!

If he becomes the focus of his brother's anger,

His brother will kill him if he thinks he's a threat.

Save the lad! Save his people," he cried with eyes that were wet.

A harsh cough tore through him; he clenched Aramis' hand.

His eyes closed, his chest stilled – he was gone from this land.

The Spaniard blessed the man, and rose from his side,

His eyes showed the sadness he harboured inside.

His good brother Porthos, aware of his grief,

Offered the marksman a little relief.

A nudge and a smile was all that it took,

To help ease some of the pain from the kind medic's look.

Treville's brow was furrowed as he processed the tale,

Weighing all of his options and what they would entail.

"We have to go help them," said D'Artagnan out loud,

His brown eyes sweeping his brotherly crowd.

"He's right," grumbled Porthos, "They need our aid.

If murder took place, justice must be paid."

Treville looked at Athos, his stern second in command,

Then glanced at his marksman – the best in the land.

He looked at the brawler, a man of strength and brute force,

To the righteous young Gascon, and he knew their course.

"Be careful," he said as he looked at the four,

"We don't really know what might be in store.

If there's truth to this claim of a murderous son,

I'm counting on you to get the King's justice done."

The men left to pack and rest while they may

And were off in the saddle at the first light of day.

The road was long and the musketeers grew tired

When they arrived at the town to see what had transpired.

They checked in at the inn and while Athos got glasses,

Aramis opted to flirt with the lasses.

He joined his brothers with a bottle of wine

And shared what he learned from the sweet Caroline.

"The tale that the old man recounted is true.

The son killed his father, and his brother maybe too.

The brother's in hiding to heal from a blade,

Thrust by his brother, Laurent, in a raid."

"Good work," said Athos to Aramis with a smirk,

"Now what did you pay for the results of your work?"

"Nothing," said Aramis with a entrancing grin.

"Some of us are just charming. Where should we begin?"

The others all chuckled. "What you have is a gift.

Let's seek out the brother, the one who's adrift."

They finished their wine and then made to rise

When in walked a villain much to their surprise.

The villain was startled by the sight of the four,

And drawing his pistols he blocked off the door.

"Musketeers!" he shouted to his backup outside

And in pushed eight others oozing with pride.

"We don't want to kill you," said Athos to his foe.

"We're here for the King. We could let you go.

Your master, it seems, stands vilely accused,

So surrender to us and you won't be abused."

"Your King is a fool," a greasy brute said.

"So was the Baron. We're glad that he's dead.

Now drop your weapons or we'll kill you with pleasure

And punish the townsfolk for aiding your leisure!"

The men, they stood tensely, preparing to fight –

The inn's loyal patrons crept out of sight.

Then "Bang" went a pistol, followed by a crack,

And suddenly a villain lay flat on his back.

He had fired at Porthos – a brutal mistake,

For the punch from the brawler caused the man's jaw to break.

The battle was on – a violent matter,

As D'Artagnan's opponent fell with a clatter.

Rapiers were drawn, the musketeers engaged,

While the Baron's brute henchman fought them with rage.

The villains were armed, but they had little skill,

And with a thrust and a parry, another was killed.

Athos fought the leader, Porthos two others;

Aramis and D'Artagnan defended their brothers.

The battle was short thanks to the musketeers' talent

And the last was defeated by Athos the gallant.

"Surrender!" he said to his quivering foe,

"You're defeated. Surrender. There's nowhere to go.

You work for the new Baron; that much is clear.

This Laurent has brought nothing but vileness here.

Tell us his plan, and we will let you live,

But pardon and justice are King Louis' to give."

The villain he trembled under Athos' stern glare

And the sight of the victorious others did scare.

"The Baron, Laurent, he murdered his dad.

He made us help do it – but we weren't always bad.

He promised us payment from Spain," the brute said.

"'Paid on delivery once my father is dead'

But his brother opposed us, and fought for his father,

But in the end, he needn't have bothered.

The Baron was slain and Pierre, he fled,

And Laurent, he took power, but it went to his head."

"You tormented the town! You took all you wanted!"

Interrupted D'Artagnan, his feelings affronted.

The man raised his head with a menacing gleam

"We took what was owed. Fair payment it seemed.

With Laurent in power, he sent spies out from Spain

To help oust King Louis, our country's bane.

A good king should rule us," the man said with a sneer,

"Not with love, but with order, power and fear.

You've won, I'm defeated, but your mercy you can keep.

I'd rather die swinging than to Louis go weep.

My master Laurent should rule from the palace

And soon he will get there with Spanish help and with grace."

A "crack" split the room as a fist met a face

And the villain he crumpled at his kneeling place.

"Good work," said Aramis, giving Porthos a pat

Where he stood panting and glaring and bitterly spat.

"It's a gift," the man grumbled and wiped at his brow.

"I thought he'd been talking too long anyhow."

Aramis laughed, and D'Artagnan, he grinned,

But Athos stayed stoic as his mind's wheels spinned.

"What are you thinking?" Aramis inquired,

"I know that there's something that you have conspired."

"We must find Pierre," he said with a smirk,

And gestured to where the brute lay with a jerk.

"Let's tie this one tight to send to the King,

And perhaps surprise can still be our thing.

No one escaped from our little inn brawl.

We must find Pierre before we attack the hall."

The musketeers split up and went knocking at houses,

Questioning old men, farmers and spouses.

They returned to the inn, their research quite thin.

"We need to find him so we can begin,"

Said Athos with anger, his frustration growing.

"He is our best witness to the discord on-going,

We'll need him to help us mount an attack on our foe –

It's his brother, after all, that we must overthrow."

Just then the door opened and in with the chill,

Came a limping young man who looked rather ill.

He brushed snow from his cloak and with no secrecy

He said to them sadly "You've been looking for me.

My name is Pierre, son of Maurice,

Pray now, please tell me that you come here in peace."

The Musketeers were startled by the sudden appearance

And looked at each other with a practiced coherence.

"We're surprised to see you," said Athos wryly.

"It was said you were injured," he added quite dryly.

Pierre opened his cloak; his arm in a sling.

"This wasn't too bad, though a deep bloody thing.

My brother attacked me after killing my father;

I've been harboured by one villager after another.

We sent for your help – my father knew Treville –

I hoped you could help enforce King Louis' will."

The musketeers nodded, "That's why we are here.

Our mission seems simple, the goal is quite clear.

Your brother is cruel and will pay for his crime.

We should attack swiftly – we've already lost time,"

Said Athos to the quiet and miserable man.

"I would like to help you however I can."

Aramis smiled, "Tell us of your home.

How many men might we expect when we come?"

The young man frowned; his face was grim.

"He has two dozen guards that are always with him.

They aren't all well trained, but each one is cruel.

They're using their anger and greed as a fuel.

My brother has told them that they will be paid

By Phillip of Spain if Louis they betrayed.

My brother was hungry for wealth and for power.

He betrayed my whole family in that dark deadly hour

When he butchered our father, a good noble man,

In order to further his treacherous plan."

The brothers were saddened to hear of this thing,

That a man could betray father, brother and King.

They swore to Pierre that they would set things right.

"We'll enter the house at daybreak's first light,"

Said Athos with a solemn nod of his head

"Perhaps if we're lucky, the brutes might be in bed."

The Musketeers neared the house, Porthos front, Athos back.

Each man was ready and prepared to attack.

The first guards they met were quickly defeated –

With quick strikes from Porthos, both men were unseated.

They slipped through the courtyard and into the hall

To find two more brutes, one burly, one tall.

"I'll take them," said Aramis, pulling his dagger

As he quickly fought the foe with his typical swagger.

Four men were down, so remaining were twenty –

And if you would ask Porthos he'd say that was plenty.

The four musketeers came to a stair.

"You two try upstairs. See what you find there,"

Said Athos to Aramis who gave a wink and a grin,

And with Porthos they left Athos with D'Artagnan.

The rooms were all empty just some guards on patrol,

But these men were easily within their control.

The Gascon had stopped to readjust his glove

When suddenly a crash could be heard from above.

Two pistol shots sounded, one after the other –

D'Artagnan and Athos knew it must be their brother.

Back to the stairs the two musketeers flew

And ran down the hall and into their two.

"What happened?" said Athos, "Are you both alright?"

"Not a problem," said Porthos, "Just a bit of a fight."

"You're bleeding," said D'Artagnan as he peeked in the room;

Six men were unconscious or had met their doom.

"One used a knife," Porthos said with a shrug.

"Porthos could handle that villainous thug.

They crashed through an armoire in the midst of their rowing,

But the cut is not deep. It shouldn't need sewing,"

Aramis said as he reloaded his gear.

"I think now the others will know that we're here."

The words were just spoken when from the end of the hall

Came the villain Laurent with ten men at his call.

They all drew their pistols and as one they all fired,

And when the smoke cleared, three more had expired.

To rapiers next, and daggers were drawn,

As they battled their foe in the cold, winter's dawn.

D'Artagnan fought two men, Porthos two others;

Both were aware of the fates of their brothers.

Aramis fought with great skill and was very deft

With a blade in his right hand, and one in his left.

Athos killed one man, and then faced Laurent,

The usurper and traitor only guided by want.

"Surrender," said Athos, "We know what you've done.

You murdered your father to be the Baron.

You worked with the Spanish and harboured their spies,

You hired these villains and fed them all lies.

There is no reward as part of your plan.

Only you were to benefit – the rest you would damn,

And now when the King hears of you and your gang

And your schemes against France – it's certain you'll hang!"

"Silence!" screamed Laurent as he upped his attack

"My father deserved it. There's no going back.

The old man was weak, his rule it was failing

And with the King's taxes, the land was all ailing.

I wanted to do it! I wanted the gain

Of having strong allies with allegiance to Spain!

So come at me you cur!" with a swipe at the head,

"You won't take me alive. I won't stop 'til you're dead!"

The fighting continued – the henchmen were failing,

The musketeers' training was clearly prevailing.

Two more lay dead, the others held hostage –

D'Artagnan and Porthos were securing their bondage.

Athos dealt a strike, a smooth flick of the wrist

And cut Laurent's forearm – he drew back with a hiss.

There was blood all around them – Athos was cut too –

The others could only watch the still fighting two.

This would only end bloody for the treacherous son

Though it seemed all but certain that Athos had won.

"Don't make me kill you," he said hoarse of voice.

"I'll never surrender. You won't have a choice!"

Laurent, he lunged wildly at Athos' right side

Just as Athos' true rapier pierced through his hide.

Laurent stood there frozen, his grip had grown slack,

And withdrawing the rapier he fell on his back.

He drew his last breaths, and continued to bleed,

So ended the villain led astray by his greed.

The battle was over, the fighting had ended

And the wounds to his brothers Aramis tended.

Pierre he was humbled and did nervously shift,

"How can I ever thank you for this gift?

You vanquished my brother and brought peace to the land.

I owe you all everything." He held out his hand.

They all shook his hand and mounted their steeds

And returned home to Paris, Athos in the lead.

That night as they sat at a tavern in town,

D'Artagnan was quiet, his face wore a frown.

"I can't understand it," he said with a sigh,

"How could a son cause a father to die?"

"Ambition," said Aramis "Is a dangerous thing.

This man was misguided. He wanted to be King.

The murder was vile – a most deadly sin –

An act that I fear won't be forgiven."

"Nor should it," said Athos as he refilled his glass.

"There are things I've learned as time's come to pass.

Family has greater value than gold –

Something not traded, purchased or sold.

Laurent did not see that; he knew not its worth."

"But family," said Porthos "Isn't set out by birth.

You three," he said, "Are all that I've got.

It may be not much, but to me it's a lot."

"I feel the same way," Aramis said with a smile,

"Having you three makes this living worthwhile.

They can keep all their titles, their land and their gold.

I'm grateful to be here with you three and grow old."

Porthos said, "You? Growing old? It can't be."

Said Aramis, "One can be older and handsome, mon ami."

The others all laughed. Athos lifted his drink.

"To our family," he said, "Our unbreakable link.

Our bond is a gift. We're in rich company.

To trouble, and laughter and love with you three!"

They each raised their glasses, love filling them all

As they affirmed the words "All for one and one for all!"


End file.
